 Many
people often ask what inspires us to create some of our issues.
While it may appear that we spend many months painstakingly researching
each article, you’d be surprised to find that the truth is
actually quite the contrary. We thought we might take this opportunity
to show you what goes on behind the scenes in:
The Birth of a Jerga
La Jerga is a monthly publication, although we’ve been threatening
to go bi-weekly since we began. Since all contributors to La Jerga
(including its creators) are only part-time skags, who moonlight
other full-time jobs to put bread on their family’s table
and clothes on their children’s backs, we’re on a rigorous
4-week production schedule, which usually consists of:
Week 1: (aka investigation) Still reeling from last month’s
blockbuster release, we must clear our heads before the coming weeks
of intensive development and heavy production. To alleviate these
pressures of modern life, we partake in some sort of recreational
activity, perhaps a state fair, or maybe a concert or a road trip.
Usually any excuse that involves leaving San Miguel. This can also
be a weekend event (such as a Wine & Cheese or Medieval festival),
a freakish one-shot occurrence, or a chance encounter with an interesting
personality. This is the time that we conduct interviews, collect
information and begin meticulously planning the layout of our next
issue. Since La Jerga is a FREE publication that must sell advertising
in order to cover its production costs, we set sales goals to project
how many pages each issue will be and how many copies will be printed.
Week 2: (aka development/production) Having amassed all
this raw information, it is the editor’s duty to assemble
it into a somewhat coherent format, before beginning production.
However, nothing of the sort happens until the editor gets off his
ass and sits down with Keith Keller, La Jerga’s most senior
(and punctual) contributor. Keith is nearly blind. He used to handwrite
his 12 – 36 page opuses in ALL CAPS on yellow, wide-ruled,
notebook paper for me to transcribe. Now Keith uses his word processor
to teletype me articles he sends me across the information superhighway.
Keith has come a long way and we’re quiet proud of him.
 It
is around this time that the designer begins nagging for his texts.
However, the designer knows all too well, that it will be a cold
week in hell before he sees any of these texts. (wink, wink) The
editor piles through various submissions, hours of recorded audio
interviews; strains to read over badly handwritten documents and
napkins that were scrawled in the darkness of bars, nightclubs and
shady restrooms; he researches on the internet, reviews his emails
and examines his notes. About five days later the designer once
again politely asks for his texts. “Sorry Charlie, no such
luck!”
Once the stories are written, they must still be proofread and then
translated by the Spanish editor, Viridiana (when she’s not
on strike), who then reviews the translation with the editor to
verify accuracy, only to be proofread again. Only after this stage
is completed, may the designer have his texts (if he’s nice).
When the articles finally make their way out of editorial, the production
team jumps into action. The technical aspects of our process can
be summed up nicely by the Bauhaus design principles. Each part
makes up the whole, yet the parts must be able to stand on their
own. But the most important part of the concept is to know when
to say screw it all and just lay the crap out.
We have a huge selection of stock photos—it’s called
Google images. But rest assured, nothing is ever copied and pasted.
Each image goes through a metamorphosis in Adobe Photoshop into
either something funny, tragically sad or entirely inappropriate.
Most of the artwork is hand drawn in house and scanned in, also
going through the Photoshop process before being placed in Adobe
InDesign (CS2). InDesign is Word on steroids, and even simpletons
from the editorial department can use our futuristic tools. You
should see it, it’s like watching the Miracle Worker.
When a cover story has actually been chosen, the call goes out to
Paul Sparx in San Antonio for several mock ups. Most of what comes
back would send you howling mad into the night. Sometimes we decide
it is in the public’s best interest to run a cover photo if
the article warrants it. But Paul is always our first choice, just
to see what kind of wild mind-blowing shit he will send back.
Ruth is a huge part of the production team. Not only does she sell
and design our plentiful ads in Guanajuato, she lays out a majority
of the Guanajuato stories, breaking up the monotony of my layouts.
And I don’t have to do it, which I really enjoy.
The production team often revolts, writing and designing entire
parts of the newspaper, outflanking the editorial department. This
is when the newspaper is at its most efficient. This rivalry is
as classic as the front and back of the house struggle in restaurants.
Except in production, we know that just behind the ad rep, nothing
would ever happen without our able hands. [Editor’s note:
When I left last weekend, the paper had not yet been started. When
I returned, it had still not yet been started.]
The last glorious part of the production cycle is when we place
the print version online at www.lajerga.com. As the second to last
file is posted, I start to ask editorial once again, “Where
are those texts? When can I get those articles? You realize it’s
4am, right? Right?” And the cosmic ballet continues...
Week 3: (aka distribution) There’s no better
early morning wake-up call than the sound of Ranchero music blaring
from our newspaper delivery man’s pick-up truck as he pulls
up to our house and dumps these bundles of joy on our driveway!
This is the second-best week at La Jerga (followed only by Week
#4). Nothing can describe the natural high that comes along with
publishing and distributing thousands of copies of your own schlock.
We literally skip from city to city, from establishment to establishment,
from head to head, proudly dolling out our issues, ready to reap
the fruits of our arduous labor.
Week 4: (aka intense nut scratching) We haven’t
slept in 5 days. We spent the last two nights drinking heavily .
And you actually expect us to do some work? Go to hell! Instead,
we spend this week mostly in bed, or on the couch, watching COSMO
with Don Papi Chulo. This is the ever so important “decompression
stage” for LJ, where we relish sitting on our laurels before
the vicious cycle begins anew. Sometimes, this week is extended
into three weeks, leaving us only one week to accomplish all of
the above—much like the issue you now hold in your hands!
|
 |
|
